No Kings - Poem

He isn’t a king.
Not yet.
But listen—
the crowd is already bowing.

The voice on the screen
mocks the hurting,
calls enemies what used to be neighbors,
and we cheer.
Or stay quiet.
And the silence begins to build a throne.

Down at the border,
a child cries “mamá.”
His voice is hoarse,
his face pressed to wire.
No crime. No danger.
Just a boy
who misses his mother
in a country that stopped listening.

Look—
if that were your child,
would you still call it law?

This isn’t about politics anymore.
It’s about how much pain we’re willing to excuse
to feel powerful again.

You say you believe in faith.
Family.
Freedom.
I believe in those things too.
But how did we get here?
How did those words become weapons?

We don’t need a king.
We need each other.
We need courage—not to dominate,
but to feel again.
To care again.

Don’t let him become
what he believes he already is.
Don’t trade your heart
for a slogan.

It’s not too late.
We can come back from this.
But only if we open our eyes
and remember:

No kings.
Not here.
Not now.
Not in your name.
Not in mine.

Let mercy be louder
than fear.

Mike Baker-2025